


The Heart Wants What It Wants

by latinaeinstein (oneforyourfire)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 14:52:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16642340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/latinaeinstein
Summary: These touches—these encounters—are so few and far between





	The Heart Wants What It Wants

**Author's Note:**

> 2014 fic
> 
> references this [pic](http://fuckyeahseho.tumblr.com/post/76205352781/sehuns-shower-photo-of-suho-was-presumably)

"Look _hard_ , hyung," Sehun coaches, leaning his hip back against the bathroom door, aiming his camera. Because Joonmyun's eyes are still wide, soft, even in the harsh bathroom lighting, even as he lolls his head forward and bites back a moan. And his eyelashes and the tips of his bangs are wet from where he's washed off last night's sweat, last night's sin. Just to sully anew. But he doesn't look the part yet. He's still too _soft_. " _Hard._ "

"I _am_ hard," Joonmyun breathes, shaky.

From his position on the floor, between Joonmyun's legs, Tao hums his agreement; he's made _sure_ of it. Sehun acknowledges him with a brief dip of his camera. Tao's face is bare, eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep, but he's on his knees, pressing against Joonmyun's stomach, mouthing over blue fabric. These touches—these encounters—are so few and far between.

Sehun pans up in time to catch the affection in Joonmyun's eyes as he runs his fingers through Tao's dark hair, stroking in that maddeningly tender way. And Sehun sighs audibly, pouting. "Look _hard_ , hyung," he whines.

Joonmyun puffs out a laugh. Weak and reedy in response to another one of Tao's caresses.

(Tao is _always_ doing stupid, sexy shit to draw attention to himself. Petting his face against erections, dragging his lips slowly across the ridge like he's desperate for it, tugging pant zippers down with his teeth, slurring his Korean as he _begs_ for it, making _eyes_ like it's never enough)

But Joonmyun's eyes soften as they catch Sehun's in the mirror. And he indulges.

Joonmyun caresses Tao's face before turning him away, leaning heavily over the bathroom sink. His face hardens into a scowl, chin tucked downwards. He claps his hand against the wall in feigned aggression, and Sehun murmurs his approval as he clicks the shutter.

"Like a drama lead," Tao praises, dragging Joonmyun back by the belt loops. "Sexy and dark." And he smooths his hands down the pink fabric of Joonmyun's ugly pants, drags blue cotton up to nose along the hair at Joonmyun's navel as he works his fingers under the fabric.

Sehun tilts his camera, switches to record.

"Sehun," Joonmyun warns, groans. Because Tao's bared, taken just the tip of him into his mouth with a soft hum.

"It's for Tao to treasure," Sehun drawls, leaning back lazily, raising an uninterested brow. Like he isn't halfway hard, too. Like the eager little sound that Tao makes _doesn't_ have him twitching in his own pants. "It's for him to remember you by."

And Joonmyun doesn't have to know that it's achingly true. That Tao has confessed to it in moments of vulnerability, eyes hazy and fucked out, breathing labored, fingers and limbs tangled with his. _I miss you. I need you. I get scared it isn't real sometimes. Because you two are real even when I'm not there. I'm never there_. Joonmyun doesn't need to know that this is a gift and a negotiation and apology on his part.

"Put that away," Joonmyun insists.

"It's like porn this way, hyung. _Sexy_." he argues back. "And you want it, right, Tao?"

Tao slurps and groans in response, and Joonmyun gasps, bucking.

And it _is_ like porn. The way that Tao splays his fingers across Joonmyun's navel. The way he laps at the moisture collecting at the tip. The way he teases his lips in slow drags across the sensitive, throbbing flesh. The way he swallows, hollows his cheeks. The way he grips, strokes. The way he hums and moans and praises, breathy and enthusiastic. Like he fucking _lives_ for this.

It _is_ like porn.

The way that Joonmyun's stomach jumps with every sink. The way his muscles tense. The soft, gorgeous sounds pulled from his small pink mouth.

Even if the dialog—Tao's breathy "Jun Ma Hao" is too familiar, too tender. Even if Joonmyun holds him carefully, like Tao is precious and treasured and important. Even if Tao is making a point of sucking him off slow and sweet, until it's just a crescendo of sensation and heat and pleasure, an exquisite sort of torture overlain with affection and intimacy.

Sehun angles to capture the gleam—the love—in Tao's eyes, remembers that this is for _Tao_ and shifts upward to record the way that Joonmyun licks his lips, trembles with every smooth glide of Tao's sinful tongue.

There's a softness to his eyes as he cradles Tao's head, thumbs gently in warning before thrusting forward, urging Tao to take more into his mouth. And Tao's eyes are even softer, eyelashes clumping together, as he swallows more. Affection undercut with need as he blinks up at Joonmyun with wide, imploring eyes.

The camera falters just slightly in Sehun's grasp as he slumps back, pans out, palms himself through his pants.

"The power will probably run out," Joonmyun groans, "before I finish." But Tao does _something_. Curls his tongue, gags, hums, and Joonmyun tightens his fingers in his hair, tugging hard enough for Tao to pop off with a whimper.

Joonmyun apologizes breathlessly, stroking soothingly over his scalp. Sehun arches forward, scrambling and trying to hold the camera steady.

Tao grips him with his fingers, licks teasingly along the underside, jabs at the crown, groaning about the taste. His voice is low and sibilant, as he rasps in filthy Mandarin. Sehun can only make out every other word, but the tone has a way of curling under his skin, scraping at his sanity. Sehun knows. Joonmyun knows. Tao _definitely_ knows.

Joonmyun's chin knocks against his collarbone, and Tao sucks sloppily at the head, bobs as he twists his fist.

Joonmyun's lets out this breathy, broken sound, and Sehun can't choke back the moan that tears its way out of his throat.

Joonmyun's eyes are heavy-lidded, dark, dark, dark as they flicker in his direction. Sehun's hand shakes. He angles to his eyes. "Don't you feel left out, Sehunnie? Don't you want to join in?"

Tao glides forward again, murmuring at the proposal, and Joonmyun pitches forward, lip catching between his teeth, quelling his moans even though it isn't necessary. Not here. Not now.

Sehun steps forward, with sudden stiff animation, to tug Joonmyun's lip free. Joonmyun's eyes burn up at him, and his hand lingers. Joonmyun's moan puffs against the pad of his thumb.

"We want to hear you, hyung," he murmurs.

"Join," Joonmyun urges, extricating one of his hands from Tao's black hair to rub insistently at his wrist. "It'll be a while before—again."

And it _hurts_. Acknowledging the chaos, the frailty of whatever this is. These touches—these encounters—are so few and far between.

Sehun whimpers softly, thinks about turning away—this is about _Tao_ , giving him what Sehun almost takes for granted—about the camera strap still dangling from his wrist, but Joonmyun's _touched_ him, broken the spell of disinterest. Sehun stutters out a nod. "Hyung—"

"What do you want?" Joonmyun whispers, lifting his hand to cup his trembling jaw. Sehun bites his lower lip.

But Joonmyun knows how to tangle his fingers in Sehun's hair, how to tug him forward so the camera clatters to the floor and Sehun curses even as he curls forward. Joonmyun knows how to kiss him. Fast and hard and dirty. Tongue heavy and insistent, swiping against the roof of his mouth, caressing his own in disconcertingly perfect swirls that have Sehun moaning embarrassingly loud, body bending forward in a desperate plea for more. Joonmyun knows how to coax a response. How to urge until Sehun is light-headed and pliant and needy, chasing his lips as Joonmyun pulls away.

"What do you want?" Joonmyun repeats right against the corner of his mouth.

And Sehun drops to join Tao on the floor.

Still reeling from Joonmyun's kisses, dizzy on the tears clinging to Tao's eyelashes, on the slick red puff of Tao's lips, Sehun drags him forward by the nape of his neck. And there's some of that deliberate, heavy, heart-stuttering kind of eye contact that makes something swell deep inside his chest, makes Sehun tremble. Skimming over his throat so that Tao's moan is a vibration against his fingertips, Sehun's pulls into a sloppy kiss. He tastes like toothpaste, like Joonmyun, and Sehun moans, clambers for more. Tao slows it down, cleans it up. He slurs Sehun's name in between drags of air, as he cradles Sehun's face, glides his tongue inside. Sehun tilts his head further back, falling back and crashing against the sink, and Tao smiles against his mouth as he works on tugging off Sehun's pants. Sehun loses himself in Tao's caresses. Warm and insistent and tender.

Sehun dimly registers the subtle squelch of Joonmyun stroking his cock as he gasps into Tao's mouth. Tao, who's gliding his fingers over the waistband of Sehun's underwear, pauses, hearing it, too.

"Hyung," Tao gasps out. He jerks away to kneel, blink up to watch as Joonmyun touches himself. And Sehun scrambles, chasing the warmth.

And Joonmyun looks _very_ hard, flushed cock fisted tight, lip caught between his teeth, looming over them in the harsh lighting. They both lurch forward.

Joonmyun groans. "Is this what you want?" he manages. Sehun swallows hard, nods, falling forward to mouth along Joonmyun's shaft. Tao follows, on the opposite side. Joonmyun moans, back bowing, hands falling heavily. Joonmyun's cock jerks, hips bucking, like he's not quite sure which way to go.

But even in his haze, Joonmyun caters, gives them what they need. He praises Tao, chokes out choppy Mandarin in between moans, stroking his scalp, cupping his jaw, thumbing his eyebrow. Tao responds with tighter sucks, succulent kisses, quiet puffs, exquisite vibrations.

Sehun lacks Tao's grace, the fluid way he moves, the tender way he needs. Joonmyun doesn't call Sehun beautiful, doesn't slather so much affection in his caresses, tugging his hair, moaning his name as Sehun whimpers, inhaling the deep musk, laving attention to the veins along the underside, sloppier the harder Joonmyun pulls.

It's far from perfect, lips and tongues and noses grazing. And Sehun's gaze continually flickers from the Joonmyun's cock to Tao's sleepy, affected eyes, to Joonmyun's face, pinched tight with pleasure, breathing ragged. Sehun _aches_.

One hand jerks down to cup Tao through his pants, and Tao arches with a moan, lips skimming breathlessly over the head of Joonmyun's cock. He returns the favor with a breathless laugh.

Sehun gropes blindly, popping open the button, zipping down the fly, stroking in what he's hoping is enough as he meets Tao's eyes, licks sloppily along the base of Joonmyun's erection. Tao slides nimble, sinful fingers under fabric, grips tightly, thumbing insistently at the head, as he hollows his cheeks, sucks _hard_ , humming deep in his throat.

And it starts off a domino effect. Joonmyun comes, slackening, tugging hard on Sehun's hair. And the sight of Tao, teary-eyed, jerking, blinking back surprise and struggling to swallow, so that some spills out of the corner of his mouth has Sehun gasping, releasing in hot spurts into Tao's fist. And Sehun slumps forward, biting down on his shoulder, tightening his hold, so that's it's just another two strokes, Sehun's affectionate and soft murmurs, and Tao is writhing through his own orgasm, sobbing against his neck.

Sehun can feel Joonmyun's eyes on him as he drinks in the moment.

Because these touches—these encounters—are so few and far between. And it's never really enough. The pain is staggering.

Sehun retrieves the camera, scratched, but still functional. Tao smiles up at him.

 

And they fuck again that afternoon, rushed and frenzied, _need_. Tao in the middle and whimpering, writhing, anchoring himself with Sehun's hips, moaning brokenly in between sloppy sucks as Joonmyun takes him behind. Tao's spine arches, and his fingers scrape down Sehun's thighs as he garbles breathy, broken pleas.

And then again, much slower, searing it into their memories. The way that Tao kisses soft and helpless. The way he moans, reedy, needy. The way his dark skin flushes, beautiful against pristine hotel sheets as he undulates, bucks towards Sehun's mouth, towards Joonmyun's fingers. And the way he looks, dark, damp hair fanning across the pillow case as his face pinches suddenly, perfectly in pleasure.

"I'll miss you two so much," Tao rasps into Sehun's mouth, his tongue gliding out to chase away Sehun's response, his fingers squeezing tight to keep him still.


End file.
